


These Bonds Built On Trust.

by TheMalhamBird



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-05-22 05:31:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6066958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMalhamBird/pseuds/TheMalhamBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An off hand comment from one of Bridge Four leads Adolin to imprison himself not just in solidarity with Kaladin, but in the very same cell. As Adolin's protest becomes that much harder for House Kholin to brush aside as inconsequential, and the consequences of it become that much more severe, the smallest amounts of trust that begin to flourish between Kaladin, and Adolin, and Shallan begin to change the future of Roshar....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Adolin locks himself up in the same cell as Kaladin.  
> To those of you who have read some of my other fics- one in particular- this starting point is going to look familiar.
> 
> I owe those of you who read, enjoyed, and most especially commented on Trinity an apology.
> 
> I'm not finishing it.
> 
> Whilst I loved the starting point, the more I wrote the less happy I became with what I'd done before and the direction I'd found myself taking it in. The key word of that sentence, by the way, is "found"- this is the point where I admit I had no idea where I was going with Trinity when I started it and have no idea where I was planning to go with it when Kaladin was kidnapped by the Parshendi (towards pain and angst, certainly, but other than that...no idea.) I have no wish to continue Trinity when I feel I've written myself in to a mess with it- so again, I'm very sorry to all of you who took the effort to read it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this version just as much. And to reassure you all that i won't abandon this one to-
> 
> I've planned it. All fifty chapters of it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!  
> MalhamBird.
> 
> (P.S: Feedback makes me happy. Very, very happy.... )

* * *

 

If it was possible for stormlight to judge, Adolin Kholin was pretty sure the wisps of faint blue light curling up from the handful of spheres by his bed were judging him for lying there, wide awake and doing nothing. He didn't understand how  _light_ of all things could make him feel guilty, but it did. Or maybe Adolin was just feeling guilty anyway, and the light- the only thing really visible in the darkness of his bedroom- was the only thing he had to focus his mind on without replaying a scene he honestly wished he could erase from history. 

 _It was Bridgeboy's own stupid fault_ , he thought morosely, turning on to his side and punching his pillow back in to shape.  _If he had just kept his mouth shut..._

 _Why should he have to have kept his mouth shut? If he honestly believes....no. Not if._ The anger and intensity of Kaladin's voice had made it painfully clear that what he honestly thought of Amaram: thief. Murderer.

_Stupid._

Adolin squirmed again, flopping on to his back and straightening out the cover, before pulling the whole thing over his head and rolling back on to his side, burying himself in complete darkness. He could feel his heart beating in his head, could hear the rush of blood thudding through the ear he had pressed to the mattress, and he recalled the pounding terror he had felt in that arena. Four to one- Renarin had been nothing but a hostage to the other shardbearers, and then-

Kaladin had dropped to the sands. He hadn't even had  _armour_ on, he had been carrying a _spear_ \- Bridgeboy should have been killed more easily than a child attacking a pack of chasmfiends with a _stick-_ instead, he'd been-

-Stormblessed. Like the wind itself. The moment Bridgeboy had placed his back against Adolin's plate, Adolin had felt himself energised, almost eager to return to the fight- something to do with partnership, or perhaps the fact he had been given a _chance_ to survive...and if he, in his Plate, with his Blade, had been flooded with a mix of adrenaline and the Thrill brought on by the danger facing him, how much more adrenaline must have been coursing through Kaladin? It was hardly surprising, he had gone and lost his head- and honestly, Adolin wouldn't have been surprised to find that Kal hadn't even thought through the consequences-

-but that didn't alter the fact that his actions had had consequences, one of them being that Sadeas was now far out of reach-

-although not as far as out of reach as he would have been if Adolin had been killed or maimed in that arena, which he would have been , whilst Elhokar sat there-

-And emerging from the stuffy confines of his fabric cocoon, back in to the air and in to the reproachful glow of stormlight, Adolin finally acknowledged that he was furious with his cousin- with the King. If Kaladin had messed up, so had Elhokar in arresting him, but it was more than that. In the arena Adolin had felt like he was going to die. And he had hoped, briefly, in the seconds before Kaladin had dropped on to the sands, when three shardbearers had been holding him down and Renarin...Adolin had hoped that Elhokar, as _king,_ might have stopped the duel and saved Adolin's life. Nothing had happened, and then Kaladin had arrived. And now Kaladin was in prison, which...just wasn't right. However he looked at it, however hard Adolin tried to rationalise the duelling codes and courtly ettiquette- which Bridgeboy probably didn't even know, when you stopped to think about it- the laws which said darkeyes speaking ill of lighteyes was an affront to the Almighty- and how did that even make sense? Surely, surely, allowing theft and murder to go unpunished were a greater affront to the Almighty, whoever had been stolen from and murdered-

Adolin kicked off his bed covers and swung out of bed. On the very slim chance there was an Alarm in the middle of the night, scrambling out of pyjamas and back in to a discarded uniform took twice as long as just scrambling in to a discarded uniform; Adolin tended to sleep just in his dressing gown. He paused to pull on a pair of slippers, and retie the cord holding his robe closed, then padded over to the door and slipped out of it. 

Skar snapped to attention. 

Adolin sighed. "I've told you, you don't need to guard me at night."

" _Night_ brightlord," Skar yawned, raising his salute to cover his mouth.  "The time when assassins traditionally try and kill folks other folks don't like. Or thieves come," he added, something sly in his voice as he recovered, shifting slightly, stretching.

Adolin frowned. "What the storms would a thief want with my bedroom?" he asked.

He could _hear_  the wicked smile in Skar's voice when the bridgeman said "Your virtue?". Adolin snorted, shook his head and walked off. Skar fell in to step next to him. 

"I'm assuming this isn't an amorous encounter you're heading towards?' he said, "Because if it is, you can get _yourself_ there in one piece. I have no intention of waiting outside some door while you have all the fun."

"You're welcome to wait  _inside,_ " Adolin rejoined briefly, "but i'm afraid you'll be disappointed- It's Renarin I'm planning to see."

" I'n which case," Skar noted as they arrived outside Renarin's door and Drehy snapped to attention. "I'll stay out here and annoy Goldy." 

"Thanks, brightlord," Drehy said. "So glad you could drop by with Skremling in toe."

"That's  _Sir_ Skremling to you," Skar said haughtily; Adolin smiled, a little jealous of the easy camaraderie that seemed to exist between all of Bridge Four, and rapped on his brother's door. 

"Behave out here, you two" he said. The guards exchanged smiling glances, and Renarin's voice came softly through the door.

"Come in, Adolin."

Adolin slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him. 

"Have you gone to bed at all?" he asked. Renarin sat in his pristine uniform, curled up in an armchair with an oversized book open on his lap- presumably one of the notebooks Jasnah had drawn up for Renarin about....whatever it was Jasnah sent the folios to Renarin about- History, Adolin assumed. That was Jasnah's- had been Jasnah's thing. Renarin raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, I've been to bed. Then I got up again. It is six." he paused briefly. "I assume you've been up all night?" he added, "given that we don't tend to see you much before twelve on days you're not on duty."

Adolin shrugged. "I've been thinking about Kaladin," he said

"And?"

"Do you believe him? About Amaram?"

Renarin was silent for a moment. "Yes. It all makes a lot of sense. About why Captain Kaladin doesn't trust father, particularly."

Adolin nodded. "Amaram acts very similar to father," he agreed. "Except father makes mistakes, and Amaram doesn't. Which kinda stinks of something being off, don't think?"

"Jasnah never liked him."

Adolin was suprised, briefly, he'd never been given that impression- but if Renarin said it was so, then that settled everything. Jasnah had an excellent taste of character- Shallan was proof of that-

"Could you _not?_ "

Adolin frowned at Renarin, confused.  "Not _what_?"

"Smile goofily every time you think about Brightness Davar."

Adolin scowled at Renarin's slightly teasing tone. "I can't help it!" he protested. "She's-"

"The one, the most wonderful women you've ever met, and you're going to marry her." Renarin finished, rolling his eyes. "We _were_ talking about Kaladin."

"It's not fair."

The brothers lapsed in to silence. Adolin rested his head back against the door.  

"So what are you going to do?" Renarin asked steadily, as if he had no doubt that Adolin would do something. Adolin shook his head.

"I could try appealing to Elhokar."

"I think father went as far as he could with that."

"Then I have to...I don't know...I have to make the point that it's not fair."

"Isn't there something in The Way of Kings?" Renarin mused. 'Didn't Nohadon-'

"Lock himself up with one of his fellow king's sons when the prince's father had him arrested for disobeying orders, even though him disobeying the orders save the other king's Kingdom." Adolin finished, a slow grin spreading over his face. "Yes. Yes, there was."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, funny story.
> 
> *ahem*
> 
> I was reading through my own story on my tablet (I do that sometimes), and I noticed some random grammatical/spelling error, and it was bugging me. So naturally, I went to try and correct it. On my tablet. Which wasn't...actually that great an idea because it thought I wanted to delete the entire chapter. So it did that.  
> (Seriously. I'd misspelled "and" or something daft.   
> But MalhamBird! You cry. Can't you just have reposted the chapter?   
> Yeah. I could have.   
> If I hadn't knocked the memory stick I had it on out of my pocket and on to the drive, where it stayed the entire night. This being England, it also rained the entire night. 
> 
> So my memory stick dried out. And it works (?!) But my documents were all a little...patchy.   
> So I had to rewrite some stuff.   
> There's not that bigger difference, but still....
> 
> Sorry guys. I promise not to make this a habit...

* * *

 

“So d’you think I should?”

“I don’t know. I don’t particularly care about that sort of stuff.”

Drehy rolled his eyes. “Storming lot of use you are.”

Skar shrugged. “Either you want to ask Lopen to court you or you don’t. If you want to ask him, ask him, if you don’t-“

He fell abruptly silent as Prince Adolin emerged from his brother’s room, looking confident and determined. He was even humming to himself. _Humming._ Prince Adolin obviously kept a spare uniform in his brother’s room; given that Adolin was far broader on the shoulders than his brother, the perfectly fitted if slightly creased Kholin Blue coat and trousers he had replaced his dressing gown with couldn’t belong to Renarin.

“Right then,” Adolin said. “That’s that sorted.” He smiled at Drehy, then strode off down the corridor.

Skar hurried to catch up.. “Do I need to be worried?” he asked.

“Worried? Why?”

“Because you’re strangely cheerful for someone who’s spent the last two days in a storming foul mood,” he paused, then blushed. “If you’ll pardon my language-“

“Don’t worry. And- you don’t need to  worry.”

“So you’re not planning anything?” Skar asked. “Only usually by this point-“ they were striding towards the entrance of the bunker “- you’ve normally told me where you’re planning on doing.”

“How are you lot coping? With Kaladin’s arrest?” Adolin asked, changing the subject completely.

“Fine.” Skar said. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask a question.”

Skar felt irritation grow inside of him, then shoved it down. If the lighteyes wanted to be secretive, that was his problem. He couldn’t blame Skar when he walked in to that trap a couple of the lads from unit seventeen had laid just outside the market for some of Sadeas’ lot, or some equal disaster.

“How are you?” he asked instead. “With...” he hesitated. “Well, it’s just, some of the Cobalt lads were saying you and one of the shardbearers, you were…”

“Brightlord Jakamav and I used to be lovers,” Adolin said, “or what passes for lovers when it’s two sixteen year old  boys fooling around without really knowing what they’re doing, that ended….and he dumped me weeks before the duel, anyway, so….”

“You want me and Drehy to stab him?” Skar offered. Adolin snorted.

“Nah. I’ll find a way to do that myself.” Adolin paused. “Are you sure Bridge Four’s all right? It’s just, there seems to have been  a massive shift around with who does what when over the last two days…”

 “Captain Kaladin,” Skar said, irritation prickling back up again. So there was a little bit of chaos. What had they expected when they took Kal? “Normally does two out of the three shifts a day, and at least half of the other shift training the new recruits or hassling the other Bridge Crews to do something, and then he generally has a talk with Rock or Sig about something or other- teaches a couple of folks how to do medicine, sometimes- so on account of the fact that one of the best of us have to be with the King, or your father, and you and your brother as well, me, Teft and Moash are parcelling Kal’s guard shifts out between us, which means Teft can’t train the greevines when he used to, or when Kaladin used to which means some of the others- Sig and Peet, mainly, are covering those shifts, which means they’re missing from the rota-then Brightlord Dalinar insisting on how two of us guard the prison if it makes us feel better, which we’re grateful for but it’s another two- and we all of us need to sleep and eat, which Kaladin doesn’t so much because he can-well, he just doesn’t seem to need to,” he faltered, and swallowed as he realised what his mounting anger- both at the lighteyes for taking Kal away and Kal’s own inability to take care of himself- had almost let slip.

“He says he doesn’t sleep well anyway, so he may as well be awake and doing something useful,” he continued hurriedly, hoping that the argument the Captain used when Teft tried to force him to do less and sleep more would cover up the near slip, and distract the prince from enquiring as to what it was that meant Kaladin didn’t need as much sleep as other men. The lighteyes would have to learn about stormlight sooner or later, but Kaladin seemed to prefer later and Skar fervently hoped he hadn’t just made it sooner. “He says he doesn’t like sleeping on his own,” Skar continued, aware he was babbling. “Not being able to hear other people breath doesn’t sit right, but there’s nought can be done about that- he’s got a separate room because he’s the Captain, it’s what proper, and any way- we wouldn’t be able to gossip about him behind his back if he came in with us…”

Adolin listened to Skar rattle on, processing each word. He thought he could detect a frequently played out quarrel in the bridgeman’s recital of Kaladin’s difficulties sleeping- strange to think that the Captain actually wanted other people around. Adolin had assumed that the combined airs of mystery and surliness that Bridgeboy kept up around lighteyes extended to his men. There was nothing like mystery to make a commander seem exciting, and nothing like surliness to inspire attempts to please: Adolin had sort of assumed that this accounted for Bridge Four’s devotion towards Kal, given that he seemed to lack any sort of charisma. Skar’s motives in recounting all this, Adolin saw, was to mask the fact that Bridgeboy didn’t need to sleep as much because he did something to prevent it- some form of drug, Adolin wondered? Some substance or brew that might also account for the Captain’s fantastic reflexes- if he was alert all the time…firemoss wouldn’t do that, it dulled the senses rather than enhanced them, but there had to be something that would do the opposite…

…and if there was, Kaladin’s imprisonment would cut him off from it completely. How would that affect him? The way suddenly refusing to drink wine after Gavilar’s death had affected father? Adolin clenched his jaw and veered away from that particular train of thought, focussing back on Kaladin. He had no evidence that the Captain was taking or had ever taken any sort of drug, although it was a possibility, in which case it was probably best he had someone to keep an eye on him.  He did know that Bridgeboy didn’t like to sleep on his own, in which case he definitely needed someone to keep an eye on him- sleeping was supposed to be the best way of coping with imprisonment, after all.

His planned course of action when they arrived at the prison adjusted slightly, and became a little easier, he thought- the jailor was probably more likely to leave Adolin alone with the keys to Kaladin’s cell then to let him walk in to an empty one…

Two members of Bridge Four were standing outside the prison, although they weren’t men Adolin recognised. They saluted smartly, and let Adolin go through without enquiring as to his purpose. “Wait out here, if you like.” Adolin said to Skar. “I’m not going to be attacked in a prison building filled with Kholin guards when no one knew I was coming and besides, I’m not entirely sure if they’d let you guard me to see the Captain in any case….” Elhokar, apparently determined to make Kaladin’s life as miserably as possible if he couldn’t take it away entirely, had used the general light-eyed visitors only rule to ban any of Bridge Four paying the Bridgeboy a visit when father had suggested otherwise, but Adolin didn’t give a fig about that. He did worry, however, that anyone guarding him when he threw himself in prison might get yelled at by Dalinar for not stopping him. For all his joking earlier about Adolin being the one his father would kill, he didn’t want to risk anyone else getting in to trouble as well.

Skar’s grip on his spear tightened, but he nodded. “Fair enough. How long until I should start worrying that you’ve been taken hostage by a bunch of murderers all wanting their release?”

“....I want to establish details of Captain Kaladin’s background, as far as possible,” Adolin said, “To…check to see if there are any…irregularities-“

“So, this time next year then?” Skar said, cheerful again. “Getting Kal to talk is like pulling teeth, only slower and more painful for the person doing the pulling.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Adolin acknowledged drily, then ducked inside the prison.

It was cool, in the soulcast stone atrium, if a little gloomy; a scribe sat behind a desk in the corner, talking quietly with the jailor who sat next to her, dressed all in black. He had a square beard, like an ardent’s. Huh. Most men tended to avoid that fashion. Maybe the woman was telling him to shave it off? Regardless, both fell silent as they caught sight of Adolin.

“Brightlord.” The man rose to his feet and saluted, face heavy with suspicion. “May I be of assistance?”

Adolin met the man’s scrutiny steadily. “I’m here to see Captain Stormblessed.”

“Highrince Dalinar sent no word.”

“The visit is an impulse; I haven’t informed my father.”

The man’s gaze flicked to the golden knots at Adolin’s shoulder. “Of course. Forgive me, brightlord. I’ll take you to him.” The man rounded the desk and drew the keys from his belt, unlocking a heavy wooden door opposite the entrance. The turn of the bolts was audible and the hinges creaked; a rectangle of bleakness seemed to open up as the door was drawn back.

Adolin followed the man in to it, his heart pounding. The corridor was lit by clusters of spheres, but the oppressive atmosphere seemed to swallow the light. Five Wooden doors identical to the one leading in to the corridor lined the walls on either side- prisons for officers. The man ignored them, and continued further down in to the corridor, where the wooden doors on the left hand side gave way to men standing guard, and the wooden doors on the right hand side gave way to cages of metal and cold stone. Adolin swallowed, his footsteps, and those of the jailor, seeming unnaturally loud in the passageway. They reached the end of the corridor; the jailor unlocked a door of metal bars and led Adolin down a narrow spiral staircase. Another door, at the bottom- the clang of the lock echoed as it drew back, and the guards on the other side snapped to attention. A far narrower corridor- the cells had been built in to the wall so that three sides were encased in stone, but the front _formed_ part of the wall, and so a guard might easily see in- a compromise between privacy and security, Adolin supposed. There were also no guards ranged along the wall, apart from the two guarding the stairwell. The jailor led Adolin to the very far end, gesturing towards the last cell as he stepped backwards. Adolin stepped up to the bars.

Captain Kaladin seemed to struggle to react to Adolin’s presence. He had been lying on the stone shelf at the back of the cell; it seemed to cost him great effort to lever himself upright to sit. Chains clinked as he moved. His hands and ankles were still manacled; his feet were bare and he sat only in shirt and trousers- his jacket and waistcoat had been removed, and he was shivering slightly. His eyes seemed hollow, his face blank- there were dark smudges beneath his red rimmed eyes.

Had he been crying?

Adolin glanced back at the jailor, who stood rigid and impassive, not looking at Kaladin, and Adolin felt a flush of anger course through him.

“Open the door,” he ordered quietly.

The jailor was alert at once. “I can’t do that, brightlord,” he said. “The prisoner is not to be let out-“

“I have no intention of letting him out, I intend to go in.”

The jailor’s eyes bulged. “Brightlord-“

“It is my Vorin duty as an officer!” Adolin hissed under his breath. The man hesitated, and raised a hand to smooth his beard. “Charitable….charity and….” damn, what was it that the devotary if Jezriah said concerning subordinates? Adolin knew the _codes_ , but they weren’t doctrine-

“Charity and forgiveness towards those under your command,” the jailor nodded, helpfully supplying it for him. “You intend to remind him of the hierarchy set forth by the Almighty that he might realise his sin and repent?”

_What?_ _The damnation sort of weirdos does father have running his prison?_ Adolin thought. _Who says stuff like that in real life?_ Aloud, he said “Of course,” and feeling a rush of – perhaps divine- inspiration, he added, “I feel it would go better in private. If you lock the cell behind me and leave, you may return later.”

The jailor nodded. “Of course, brightlord.” He stepped quickly towards the cell door and opened it. Adolin stepped through before the man could change his mind, and was relieved when it clanged shut and was locked behind him, and the jailor’s footsteps faded away. He exhaled loudly.

“Well, that was easier than I planned. Not that I really actually had a plan or anything…” he trailed off awkwardly, as Kaladin closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. Dark, tangled hair fell out of his face as he did so, and Adolin could clearly see the slave brands burned in to his forehead. “Are you alright?” he asked Kaladin.

“What are you doing here?” Kaladin asked, the tiredness on his face plainly reflected in his voice. “Brightlord?” he added, flinching a little.

“I…” Storms, Adolin felt ridiculous all of a sudden. How to explain, without sounding presumptuous, or condescending.  “It…just doesn’t seem right, you being down here. If I can’t get you out, I may as well keep you company until Elhokar comes to his senses. Hopefully me coming down here will bring Elhokar to his senses.”

He looked anxiously at Kaladin, trying to gauge a reaction. There wasn’t one. Kaladin simply shuddered, and lay back down, eyes opening but staring at nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope that was worth all the hassle....
> 
> and L_Cloudy, you can partially have your Adolin-is-a-nervous-virgin Headcannon back. Partially. 
> 
> P.S: please don't point out any typos in this chapter. For the rest of the work, sure. Just...not this chapter. I don't trust myself.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Kaladin lay back down on the stone bench, too tired to try and play this game. He had spent a sleepless night feeling as if the walls were trying to suffocate him- he wanted both to run at full speed and sink in to unconsciousness at the same time. What did the Princeling mean, “It didn’t seem right” him being down here? This was what happened to dark eyes who stepped out of places their betters had told them to stay in: they were locked up so they couldn’t step out of the box again.

Why should the simple facts of life bother a lighteyes?

_Why would anyone voluntarily lock themselves up in an airless, lightless cage like this?_

“Captain?” Adolin spoke again. He sounded cautious, like he was probing an old wound and he didn’t know how badly it was going to hurt when he touched it. “Are you well?”

“I’m stuck in a prison cell five paces long and three paces wide with no hint of the wind or any sort of natural light and I have no idea when I’m getting out of it if ever, no, princeling, I’m not _well_.”

Kaladin’s brain was so busy trying to keep up with the words spilling from his mouth that it didn’t register he had swung to his feet until the chain they’d left around his feet yanked painfully against his left ankle, having tried to set his right foot down further away than the slack of the manacles allowed. Adolin had darted forward, hands out stretched- a reflex action that made Kaladin burn with humiliation. Apparently, something in his gaze must have warned the Princeling to back off because he did so, swallowing slightly and lowering his hands.

“The jailor seems to think you need religion,” he said, voice forcefully light.

Kaladin snorted. “I heard.”

And the jailor- his name was Firin, or at least, that was what the guards called him- had offered to bring an Ardent down to the cells for him the first night he’d been stuck here. Kaladin had told him to storm off, and Syl had told him off for being rude. On which note- where w _as_ Syl? He hadn’t seen her since-

-when had he last seen her?

Kaladin felt panic grip him. Had she left him? For good? Gone to find a better Radiant, one who knew when to keep his mouth shut and wasn’t too afraid to tell the world she existed-

“You’ve got a windspren in your hair,” Adolin noted, voice returning to normal- if slightly coloured by relief at the appearance of a suitable topic for conversation. Kaladin reached up, and was rewarded by a sharp jolt of electricity hitting his hand. He withdrew it quickly, only to find Syl sitting on the back of his hand, looking smug.

“See,” she said, “not all lighteyes are horrible.”

“Gone,” Adolin announced. “Why are you holding your hand like that?”

She’d made herself invisible, Kaladin realised, and quickly lowered his hand. Syl continued to sit where she was, floating in mid-air.

“Do you have a problem with me holding my hand a certain way?” he demanded. Adolin’s eyes opened wide.

“No, I just-“

“Be nice to him,” Syl warned, “Or else.”

 _Or else what?_ Kaladin thought, but he took the point.

“It’s fine. I’m just. Sorry. Does your father know…?”

Adolin had been trying to avoid thinking about his father. “No,” he admitted. “I mean….you and I are the only people who know at the moment. And Renarin- it was sort of his idea, actually-“

Kaladin was frowning again. “Did you tell your guard?” he asked.

“Er-no,” Adolin admitted. “I’d thought it would be better if they could claim complete ignorance-“

Kaladin hesitated, as if weighing up the arguments, and then nodded. “You’re probably right.”

He sat back down, earlier outburst apparently behind him. “Are they-how are they- taking it?” He didn’t quite meet Adolin’s eyes as he said it, and Adolin thought there was something nervous in his tone, but wasn’t sure what he was more likely to be worried about: that there had been a protest, or that there hadn’t been. Was he hoping that his men had kept his head down, or did he want them to be up in arms? Whatever it was, Adolin decided, he could only tell the truth: “They’re upset, of course, but carrying on as normal. Or as normal as possible,” he hesitated, then repeated what Skar had said. “Covering your shifts has been difficult, I think. Apparently you do far more than a normal human being should be able to. Something about you not sleeping well-“

“I sleep fine,” Kaladin groaned. “I sleep as much as I did running bridges, or any other place I was a slave- just because they all suddenly have double the amount-“

“Yeah-“Adolin said, “but-you’re not running bridges anymore. There’s _time_ for you to sleep double the amount.” Why anyone wouldn’t take advantage of every last moment in bed was beyond him, but Kaladin was looking at him flatly. When the Bridgeboy said nothing, gaze drifting off again, Adolin shrugged, and sat down on the floor, crossing his legs and leaning back against the door.

* * *

 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Mara spoke suddenly, glancing at the fabrials clock in the atrium. Two hours had passed; Prince Adolin had yet to call to be released. “I hope the prince is letting the Captain know how long he’ll be stuck in here, it seems cruel not to tell him.”

Farin frowned at her. “His highness intended to discuss spiritual matters with the prisoner,” he said. “Not that it is any of your concern.”

Mara refrained from rolling her eyes. Farin might be overbearingly pious- who would wear a beard like an ardent’s unless they had to? - but he was chief jailor, and therefore, her boss. But honestly- spiritual matters? For two hours? They might be, she supposed, but it didn’t seem likely. Captain Stormblessed didn’t seem like the religious type- more like the dark, mysterious hero type found in epic tales about shardbearers and voidbringers, and somehow those stories never mentioned the hero spending hours agonising over the Devotaries.

She really did hope the prince would be able to tell the poor man when he’d be allowed to get out. After all, he had saved thousands of men in the Kholinar army- Mara’s own brother amongst them-and then fought off the assassin in white- it seemed unfair to lock him up. Unless it had all been a ploy, orchestrated by the Highprince- an attempt to trap the Assassin in to attacking when he thought the King would be weak, but then the Captain would spring out of prison to finish him off! Perhaps _that_ was what they were discussing-

“Excuse me,”

Mara looked up to find a man in cobalt blue uniform standing in the doorway.

“I was supposed to be guarding Prince Adolin, he said to leave him but it’s been two hours- and a messenger’s come from Highprince Dalinar that he’s to go to the palace at once-“ the man said, looking uncomfortable. Mara smiled at him. Farin frowned.

“I shall go and inform him at once,” he said.

The man nodded. “Thanks.”

No “brightlord” on the end of that, Mara noticed. Farin apparently noticed to, because he frowned more, and flounced off.

Well, not flounced. Flouncing wouldn’t really fit with Farin’s attempts at gravitas. Walked out like the stick in his rear had been shoved further up there than usual.

* * *

 

Kaladin suddenly became tense, alert in the same way he’d suddenly become just before the assassin in White had attacked. Adolin frowned, trying to get what the Bridgeboy was straining at. Then he, to, heard it: footsteps, getting closer.

“Here goes,” he said.

Kaladin looked at him. “Are you sure about this? The king isn’t going to like it.”

“The king won’t like the fact I’ve spent two hours with you whether I refuse to leave or not,” Adolin said cheerfully, although in truth his heart was pounding and his mouth felt dry all of a sudden. “Might as well hang for a chull as a – what are baby chull called?”

“How the storms should I know?”

“You’re darkeyes,” Adolin said. “Didn’t you grow up on a farm or something?”

If looks could kill, Adolin would be dead. Twice.

“It was a joke,” he said.

“You remember the conversation we had about jokes supposed to be being funny?” Kaladin asked, voice hard. Adolin opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the jailor who paced in to view, and went for the keys at his belt, unlocking the door.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, brightlord,” he said. “But your father has sent for you-“

Father.

The door swung open, and the jailor held it expectantly. Now Adolin’s heart was really pounding. If he didn’t move, he wouldn’t just be protesting.

He’d be disobeying an order from his superior officer.

Adolin had never disobeyed an order before.

He generally held in contempt those who did, unless they had a very, very good reason.

His legs twitched, his instincts trying to propel him forward, to his feet, out the cell.

What would his father say, when he was told what Adolin was doing?

He looked at Kaladin. He could see in the other man’s face that he understood exactly what the jailor had just said. “I’ll be fine,” he said, fingers clenching tightly on the stone bench he was sitting on. His eyes had gone blank again, and the exhaustion that had been on his face when Adolin had first seen him was still there, under those eyes.

_“He says he doesn’t like sleeping on his own. Not being able to hear other people breath doesn’t sit right.”_

_If it weren’t for him, Renarin and I would both be dead. So would father. So would the King. So would more than a thousand others._

_“Isn’t there something in The Way of Kings?”_

“Kindly inform my father,” Adolin said slowly, swallowing around the words, “That I’m unavailable.”

He didn’t look at the jailor. He didn’t look at Kaladin, although he was aware of the other man in the corner of his eyes.

The jailor cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, brightlord?”

“I’m not moving,” Adolin said. “I’m staying where I am. Kindly lock the door when you leave, we wouldn’t want the prisoner escaping now would we?”

“Prince Adolin, I don’t think-“

“Prince,” Adolin repeated, tapping his fingers idly on his shin. “Would be the operative word. I’m third in line to the throne of Alethkar. You have to do what I say.”

There was silence. And then, the door clanged shut, and the locks clicked back in to place, and footsteps receded back down the corridor.


	4. Chapter 4

 

“Where is he?” Elhokar demanded, pacing the sitting room. “It’s been hours, Uncle.”

An hour and a half. Which, considering no one had known where Adolin was heading, could mean he hadn’t actually received the message yet. Adolin was off duty, which meant he didn’t need to be reachable- for all Dalinar knew, his son had taken an honour guard and gone over to Sebarial’s warcamp to visit Brightness Davar, and it could well be another four hours before they saw him.

Nonetheless, Dalinar could not supress a twinge of worry, and images of an ambush, a reprisal against his son’s victory…

The duel had come so close to costing Adolin’s life. If not for Captain Kaladin- but Dalinar had no wish to repeat that argument, either with himself, or with Elhokar, who was now glaring at Renarin.

“I don’t suppose he told you where he was going?”

“No,” Renarin said, turning his box over and over in his hands, tracing the glyphs carved in to the sides. Jasnah had given that to him, Dalinar recalled. He’d been meaning to have a word with Renarin about Jasnah’s death- they’d been close, or as close as anyone _could_ have been to Jasnah at any rate; he’d meant to check Renarin was alright. Time had slipped away from him, somehow.

The door opened.

Dalinar turned, Elhokar snapped “at last-“ then fell abruptly silent. Skar stood in the doorway, looking embarrassed.

“Begging your pardon, your majesty, highprince. But- er- Prince Adolin- went to see the captain and is- apparently- not planning on leaving.”

There was silence, before Navani broke it. “I’m sorry?” she asked.

Skar looked as if he wanted the ground to open and swallow him whole. A few embarrassment spren  were actually floating around his ears. “Prince Adolin,” he repeated. “He’s decided to move in to prison. With Captain Kaladin.”

#-#

 _Of course Adolin chose Him over you,_ Elhokar thought numbly. _Why wouldn’t he? He was the one who saved Adolin’s life, while you sat there doing nothing, like always-_

A horrible thought rose to the front of his mind, one he tried to banish immediately but without success. Adolin and the bridgeman, sitting in prison together, whispering, plotting- Adolin would make a better King than Elhokar would. His cousin had the confidence, the military skill- he could make people like him, effortlessly, and with the bridgeman behind him- what would Dalinar do? Support him, against his oldest son? Not likely, although if he did…would it matter? Dalinar had not fought off the Assassin in White, Captain Kaladin had done that. Could Stormblessed beat his uncle?-

“Elhokar.” His mother’s voice sliced through his thoughts, sharp in a way it never had been with Jasnah. He blinked, and looked up to find her and his uncle both staring at him. One of them had obviously said something, and he’d missed it.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

“I asked if you wanted to come down to the prison to clarify what was going on,” Dalinar repeated.

Go down to the prison. Draw the eyes of anyone who happened to be out and about, face Adolin and the Bridgeman looking at him with mocking, arrogant eyes- no thank you.

“No,” he said. “It’s probably best if you go alone- it wouldn’t be surprising that you’d visit one of your men, but my presence would draw attention. We should try and keep this under wraps. Put about that Adolin is ill, that’s why he hasn’t been seen-“

Dalinar nodded, once. “Very well.” He passed his hand over his eyes. “Your Majesty, if Adolin has his mind set on some form of-protest-“ he broke off. Navani laid her safehand on his shoulder, and Elhokar felt himself grimace. His mother. And his Uncle. And they were both _old,_ for storms’ sake-

“Adolin is a man, Dalinar. He is entitled to make his own descisions.”

“It’s not about Adolin.” Dalinar looked squarely at Elhokar, who felt himself shrivel under that gaze. “Whatever the consequences of this may be, promise you won’t punish my son for it,” he said. “I’ve almost lost him once this week-“

“Elhokar nodded. “Of course, uncle,” he said, hollowly. _Don’t worry. I won’t test your loyalties by making you watch your son suffer a second time._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, I'm afraid. It was gonna be longer but it's been sitting in my folder since I posted the last chapter, and given I'm about three weeks away from my first A-level exam of the year, it's the last I'm going to be doing on this for a while. After my exams are over, I'll be focusing on CFSWF, the tumblr side of the cosmere's annual sad fic fest, as I'm aiming to do one fic for every day of July. (If you want to send me prompts, by the way, you're more than welcome....)   
> Hope this was enjoyable enough to tide you over the next month-and-a-half-at-least. Please comment and let me know what you thought!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, so, funny thing happened. I had exams, I was thinking I'd do a bunch of CFSWF stuff for July, then Brexit happened and I temporarily died from a well-now-we're-all-screwed slump, I got resurrected by this wonderful television show called Versailles (if you haven't watched it you should, it premiers in America....sometime. October, I think, check it out.) A-ny-way, I got my writing motivation back and channelled it in to three fics for the Versailles fandom which is even smaller than the Stormlight Archive fandom (one of them was smut, one of them I'll probably not finish ever and the other is the single most heartbreaking scene I've ever written six times over) 
> 
> Luckily for you, AO3 sends me a lovely email every time someone comments on this fic which makes me a) insanely happy and b) guilty about not updating, so here we are. Very, very late, which is better then never but still. Thanks to everyone who has left Kudos but most especially to everyone who's commented- comments saved the fic from the bottom of my to do list. Thanks again, I hope this chapter was worth the wait :)

 

Adolin paced the short length of the cell and back, moving his thumbnail up to his teeth as he tried to imagine how the conversation with father might end up going. It wasn’t helping that any way he pictured it, the him in his head opened the conversation with “Please don’t kill me but….”, and kept babbling on and on and on until he ran out of words beneath father’s stone cold glare and wilted like grass burrowing back in to the rocks before the rain came. The burning certainty that what he was doing was right, was _important_ , wasn’t making him feel any more confident.

He jumped at the sound of metal clanging metal far off, spinning on his heel to try and peer down the corridor before turning to see if Bridgeboy had heard it to or whether he had been imagining things. Kaladin was staring at something in the air in front of him, following it with his eyes before his gaze snapped on to Adolin. “Breath,” he said dully, before swallowing and pushing himself to sit up a little straighter. “Inhale while you count to five, exhale as you continue up to ten,” he clarified, with an obvious attempt to inject some life in to his voice. “If you’re nervous. It will make it easier to think clearly.”

Adolin snorted. “It’s hard to imagine _you_ being nervous.” Angry, yes, Irritated, grouchy, but nervous….?

“I never said I got nervous,” Kaladin snapped. “I said it would help if _you_ were nervous.”

Yup. Grouchy. There it was. Adolin turned back to the bars. He must have imagined the sound earlier, there had been nothing since…. he could feel the pulse in his body, heart pounding, throat closing over…

_One, two three four five._

_Six seven eight, nine, ten_

_One two three four five…._ air filled his lungs and left them again… _six seven eight nine ten…._

He felt calmer. It reminded him a little of how Renarin would count to calm down sometimes, and he rubbed his fingertips over the calloused palms of his hands as he inhaled again. _This is right. Even if I can’t explain why to you- can you always explain why a thing feels right, father? Would you be prepared to abandon that feeling just because you couldn’t explain it? Do not ask your men to do something you are not prepared to do yourself……_

Metal clanged. A door creaked, and then thudded open; heavy boots echoed down the stairs and then closer, closer, ever closer…

Dalinar Kholin strode in to view, not (Adolin sent a quick and thankful prayer up to the Almighty) looking angry, but rather thoughtful. Curious, perhaps a little tense, but calm enough.

Adolin took a deep breath.

“At ease soldier,” Dalinar said, and Adolin- who hadn’t saluted or assumed a military position-realised that Kaladin must have done so. He hadn’t heard Bridgeboy get to his feet, but he did hear him sit again, in a clank of chains…. was it Adolin’s imagination, or did his father flinch a little?

“Adolin,” Dalinar said firmly. “What are you doing?”

“Returning a favour,” Adolin said. “And standing shoulder to shoulder with the man who stood shoulder to shoulder with me, saving my life while doing so.”

“You intend to stay here until the Captain is released?”

“Yes.”

“Because he saved your life.”

“Because he saved my life and because I believe he’s telling the truth. And even if he isn’t- how many other darkeyes have been punished for saying something unflattering but true about their perceived ‘betters’?” Adolin asked, with a ferocity that surprised even himself. Behind him, Kaladin inhaled sharply; in front, his father’s eyes widened fractionally, then narrowed.

“You understand that you set yourself against the King?”

Adolin swallowed. “I disagree with his judgement in this matter, that does not mean I oppose him in everything.”

“That is not how it will be perceived,” Dalinar said, a sharp edge to his otherwise neutral tone. “You have also considered that you are depriving my army of a shardbearer?”

“My plate can be used by anyone,” Adolin argued. “I can release my blade to someone else if needed, the way Aladar does.”

A still silence settled between them. Finally, Dalinar gave a sharp nod.

“Very well,” he said.

Adolin started. “Sorry what?”

“Very well,” his father repeated. “You are an adult; you have made a decision; we must all accept the consequences of that decision.” His eyes flickered over Adolin’s shoulder to where Kaladin was sitting, head bowed and shoulders slumped.

Dalinar said: “That is all, for now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it was short, next couple of chapters might be till i get back in to the swing of things. Also, I'm at uni now, I have no idea what that's gonna mean for writing....I'll try to keep it fairly regular though


End file.
